


Abandoned Ficlet Collection

by juniperberry



Category: Tsubasa: Reservoir Chronicle, X -エックス- | X/1999, xxxHoLic
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, Alternate Universe, Gen, Multi, Work Up For Adoption
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-19
Updated: 2019-09-21
Packaged: 2020-10-21 17:16:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 11,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20697164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/juniperberry/pseuds/juniperberry
Summary: A collection of fic ideas that either didn't go anywhere, or won't go anywhere in future.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> All of these are abandoned at this point in time. The likelihood of me picking them back up to finish is pretty much none. Still, some of them are fun and I wanted to share.

Shizuka wasn't certain, even months later, exactly what happened. He had arrived after the fact, on his way to pick Watanuki up for a lunch date with Kohane. All he had found was a tall, broad-shouldered man and Mokona--the white version. 

And the shop was gone. It was just a field full of weeds and rotted wooden posts, as though the green lawn, the shrubs and trees, the stone walkway and near-traditional house had never even been thought of. 

Watanuki was no where to be found; neither was Yuuko, Mugetsu, the twin girls Watanuki had told him about, or the black Mokona. 

The man and the white Mokona had simply stared at him, dazed.

"What happened?" he had asked, as he knelt beside them on dry, cracking weeds.

"Mokona doesn't know," Mokona had said at last. Its voice had a slightly different timbre than the black Mokona's, but it was still high-pitched. "Mokona and Kurogane and Fai and Syaoran and Sakura were all here, with Yuuko too, but...."

"Something happened," the man had said, his voice deep and raspy. "The witch wasn't prepared for it." He had dug his fingers into the loose, eroded soil. "We were knocked back--but whatever it was took the witch and the others."

Shizuka had not said anything for a long moment. If there had been anything Yuuko could have done, she probably would have; though Shizuka wasn't completely certain of that, even now. In any case, there had only ever been one thing he could say to the strange man and the white Mokona.

"You can stay with me," he said. "Until Yuuko-san and the others come back." Until Watanuki comes back, he wanted to say. For all that he didn't understand Yuuko, he doubted she would simply leave Watanuki in a dangerous place--not when she went to such lengths to keep him safe.

That had been nearly a year ago. They hadn't heard anything at all from Yuuko, the vampire Fai, or Watanuki.

"Mokona hasn't contacted the black Mokona, either," was all Mokona could say.


	2. X, Yuzuriha and Satsuki

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An X ficlet that, sadly, probably won't go anywhere.

It had been years, and somehow she had missed them passing.

That was the thought running through Yuzuriha's head as she looked at the young woman on her doorstep--about her own height, but dressed in a fitted, conservative business suit, her hair no longer with a dyed tuft and her glasses smaller, and oval lenses. She was fidgeting, just the slightest bit, and her eyes were still cold and guarded.

"Yatouji-san," Yuzuriha said, for lack of anything else to say. "I'd--um--how are you?"

Yatouji was quiet a moment, as though searching for the right word. "Alive," she said at last.

Yuzuriha realized she was staring, and blushed. "Oh, I'm being rude--please come in. I can make tea...."

Yatouji was staring at her. There was a crack in her eyes, between the coldness and the wary look--confusion shining through like sunlight through blinds.

"You don't have to, Nekoi-san," she began, but Yuzuriha stopped her.

"Oh, I don't mind! Kusanagi won't be home for a little longer, and it's just me and Inuki, so it's no trouble--"

Yatouji reached out and caught her hand. "Nekoi-san," she said coolly, "don't you think it's unwise to invite someone into your home who tried to kill you?"

Yuzuriha blinked. It honestly hadn't occured to her; she had been so surprised to see Yatouji on her doorstep, she hadn't given that fact much thought.

"It was so long ago," she said, twisting her hand so that Yatouji's fingers were trapped in her own. "And you've changed, haven't you? You don't want to kill me."

"No," Yatouji said, "but that doesn't--"

"I'm not afraid of you," Yuzuriha said, and kept Yatouji's warm hand in hers. "It was a long time ago, and we've changed. Why do you think it would matter now?"


	3. Kitsune!Doumeki

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This was going to be part of a larger story, it just...didn't go anywhere. Not likely to go anywhere, either. Pre D/W, otherwise gen.

Horitsuba Academy was a big school, but not so big that it had numerous spirits molesting it. Shizuka did not really consider himself one of these, though undoubtably Watanuki would have, if he had any idea who--or rather, what--Shizuka's grandmother had been. 

But Shizuka saw no reason to bring it up, especially not with all the other crazy things that went on in their school.

Watanuki would just flail and yell about it, anyway, and Shizuka liked his hearing. It was useful.

That was all fine and dandy, until mating season approached. One of the disadvantages of being related to various nature spirits was a connection with the rhythms and cadences of life and nature; unfortunately, this often conflicted with human society's view on such things as sex, hormones, courting, et al. Shizuka decided to do the safe thing and take a week off from school, which was a writhing cauldron of hormones at the best of times as it was. His parents understood, as much as humans could understand, and did not object to his self-imposed exile.


	4. Kurogane/Doumeki failure the second

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This was the other fic that taught me that I just can't write Kurogane/Doumeki, and that I can't write a pairing just because it sounds good on paper. Failed fic written for a friend. Sorry, friend! I did try!

The night was cool and dark, and Kurogane kept still and quiet, alert and waiting for a fight. Kenji was breathing too loud, as he always did, and again Kurogane wondered why Souma had made the man a ninja.

He shifted soundlessly on his rooftop perch, almost directly above a window that led to Princess Tomoyo's chambers. The sky was clear and the stars bright. There was no moon, but Kurogane was so used to the lack that it did not bother him. The air was full with night sounds--crickets, a sighing breeze, the faint movements of those within the temple. Kurogane was familiar with all of it, including the loudly-breathing moron, and Souma's periodic, nearly silent sighs.

Kurogane was the first to hear the soft, soft sound of a cloth-covered foot touching a roof tile--the faintest brush of fabric against hardened clay. He spun and caught the intruder in the stomach with one arm. His sword was out and nearly at the man's throat before he could defend himself with a pathetically small knife.

"You will not live to try again," Kurogane snarled, his voice quiet but tight with fury. 

"I am not here to hurt anyone," the man said quietly, and calmly. Most of his face was hidden behind a dark scarf, but Kurogane could make out the gleam of eyes, even in the near-total dark.

"Shut it," Kurogane growled, but Souma's soft footsteps and gentle hand on his arm made him pause.

"Who sent you?" she asked, her voice low and authoritative. 

"Her Imperial Majesty, Ameterasu," the intruder said. "The Empress sent me with two messages. One is for Her Majesty the Princess, and the other is for Her favored guard captian."

"I am her favored, the last I checked," Souma said. "If you are telling the truth, it will mean we will not hurt you. If you lie--"

"Ginryuu will get a taste of your blood," Kurogane said, grinning. He couldn't help it; much of the time, the only thing that he trusted was making sure Princess Tomoyo was safe, and killing any enemies was the quickest way to make that a reality.

"If he's lying," Souma said, and Kurogane could hear the steel in her voice. He lowed Ginryuu a fraction, but only a fraction. Souma's dark eyes flicked up to his for half a moment, and he knew she was taking this as seriously as he.

***

The young man in Souma's offical quarters was a serious-faced youth, with yellow hawk eyes and a calm look. Kurogane didn't like him, more on principle than any true animosity.

"You are telling the truth," Souma said. "Only her Imperial Majesty would have written this to me. That spares your life.

"Princess Tomoyo will have the final say, of course," she added, as she held up the letter addressed to the princess. 

The young man nodded. His expression never changed, except for a tightening around his eyes. Kurogane kept an eye on him as Souma swept out, assigning himself and Kenji to watch the messenger as she did so. Kurogane itched to go after her, to reassure himself that Princess Tomoyo was safe and whole, but he would not question Souma's authority in front of an outsider. And imperial messenger or not, the young man was an outsider.

"So," Kenji said, "what's your name?"

Kurogane rolled his eyes, disgusted, and leaned against the wall. 

The young man was quiet for a long moment. "Doumeki," he said at last, and thankfully, that was all he said. Kurogane disliked chatterboxes, and it seemed this kid wasn't one. Irritation surged up at the hint of an even vaguely friendly emotion to one that wasn't totally faithful to Princess Tomoyo, but he squashed it. Admiring someone's ability to shut up and stay that way didn't mean he was their best friend.

Doumeki settled into a meditative pose, his eyes half-closed and his arms slack. Kurogane watched him as sharply as Kenji—the moron—did not. Kurogane waited for some sort of alarm to be raised—that the missive to the princess was poisoned, perhaps, though he knew he could trust Souma to check first, before letting the princess touch it.

“How long have you been in their majesties' service?” Kenji asked, almost desperate to make conversation. Kurogane grit his teeth.

_Why_ had Souma made this man a ninja?

Doumeki turned a bored, placid expression on Kenji, and did not bother to answer. Kurogane smiled inwardly as Kenji gulped. Maybe he was realizing that messengers—especially in the middle of a civil war—were not exactly the people to draw into small talk. 

Footsteps echoed down the hallway. Kurogane could hear them clearly, and nearly feel them through the thin walls. He was not surprised to see Souma enter the office, her near-bare feet making almost no noise. She gave him a small nod and a smaller smile, and Kurogane felt his tightly-coiled muscles relax a fraction. The princess was alive, healthy, and in possession of the message from her elder sister.

So the messenger in front of them was legitimate, and apparently trustworthy if the Empress was sending him to her younger sister. Kurogane couldn't trust him the way he could Souma, but it did mean he wouldn't be immediately threatened with Ginryuu every time he stepped onto the temple grounds.

“You're Amaterasu-sama's new messenger?” Souma asked mildly. Doumeki gave a single nod. His eyes were open now, regarding Souma with respect. 

“I am.”

“What happened to Arashi-san?”

Doumeki grimaced. “Injured,” he said. “She twisted a leg fleeing from agents of the usurpers. Shortly afterwards, her husband announced her pregnancy.”

Souma's lips twitched, and Kurogane huffed. He didn't know Arisugawa except by reputation, and he could only imagine Kishuu's reaction to his announcement.

“Is Arashi-san actually pregnant?” Souma asked, and Doumeki shrugged.

“Her Majesty said that between the injured leg and the enforced bedrest, she probably would be before she could return to work,” he said. “Arisugawa wasn't shy about offering to keep her company.”

“I imagine not,” Souma said. She glanced at the two lingering ninjas, and Kurogane read her look.

“Come on,” he said, and grabbed Kenji by the arm. “We're still on duty.”

Kenji, for a moment, almost looked as though he would protest; but then whatever brains he laid claim to kicked in, and he followed Kurogane out of Souma's office without a word.

The man might actually make something of himself, if he could learn to be quiet.


	5. Adopted!AU, xxxHolic/CCS

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This was going to be kind of a fusion with Diana Wynne Jones' Derholm books, in the sense of "huge family of magical siblings, most of which are not really human," but it didn't really get there. Schmoopy as it is, but still fun.

There was a snuffling in the bushes right outside her house. Yuuko paused on her way up the walk, her umbrella perched on her shoulder. The snuffling happened again, and she narrowed her eyes. None of her children were the type to huddle under bushes and cry, especially not in the rain on a chilly day.

"Hmm," she said, as she approached the shrubbery, "Who is that, crying in my bushes?"

She parted the leaves with one hand, and stared down at a small boy, maybe all of seven, who was wiping his eyes and trying to look small. His clothing was stained with mud and his face was dirty. "Well?"

"I didn't mean to," he said. The glasses on his face had been knocked askew. "But this is the only house that they stay away from."

"Oh? Who is 'they'?"

"The bad things," the boy whispered. "The ones with three arms and only one big eye that want to eat me."

"Ohh," Yuuko said. She had seen a spirit like that on her way here, but it had ignored her. "I see. And you crept in here to hide from it?"

The little boy nodded. "I'll leave if you want," he said, and there was a kind of strained desperation in his voice. "I just want it to go away, first."

She studied him--the dirty clothes, the tears, the way he never quite met her eyes. "Come inside," she said. "I have a whole passel of children that I'm sure would love to meet you. And I have juice inside. And good things to eat." She very nearly felt like a witch in a foreign fairytale, enticing a child into her house.

He finally met her eyes. "Are you sure? The bad thing might change it's mind, and come back. That's why they got rid of me--bad things kept trying to get in, and made the blender go off and blew the light bulbs up."

"That won't happen here," Yuuko said firmly. "Come on, you'll get sick if you stay there, and my children won't be able to play with you."

The little boy apparently came to a decision. He crawled out from under the bushes and brushed off a few leaves, though he was muddy and damp enough that it didn't do much good. "I'm Watanuki Kimihiro," he said. 

"I'm Ichihara Yuuko," she responded gravely. "Come on, now, my children are waiting." She offered her free hand, and he looked at it, at her face, and then down to his own grubby palms.

“I don't want to get your gloves dirty,” he said.

“They can be washed if you do,” she said. She wiggled her fingers and gave him her gentlest smile. He glanced at her, a quick flick of blue eyes, and tenatively took her hand.  
The house was clean and minimalist from the genkan in front of the door. Yuuko briefly released Kimihiro's hand to fold up her umbrella and take off her shoes. He followed suit, toeing off his very muddy sneakers. They could hear giggling from the kitchen.

“Ah,” Yuuko said. “The twins must be making lunch.”

Kimihiro glanced around. “You have twins?”

“Two pairs,” Yuuko said proudly. “The Mokona twins are the older twins, and Maru and Moro are the younger. They are all easy to tell apart, don't worry.” She touched his hair. “Maru and Moro are just a little older than you, actually,” she said. “But let's get you cleaned up before we eat, mm?”

He glanced at his socks. “I'll get your floor dirty,” he said. “I—I can clean it up, after I wash,” he said, his voice anxious again. Yuuko patted his dirty hair.

“Maybe,” she said. “Come on, then. The bath is this way.”

He followed her quickly, as though afraid of being tossed out if he didn't do as she asked. Yuuko frowned at that thought, but pushed it aside for the moment. The bathroom was a nice one, with a Western bath on one side of the room and a traditional Japanese bath on the other. A door in the side led to the toilet, which she made sure to show him.

“You can choose which bath you want to use,” she said. “I'll go get you some clean clothes, if you can manage by yourself...?”

“I can,” he said, and she sighed a little.

“I'll be right back,” she said. Some of Larg's old clothing would probably fit, she thought. Kimihiro was small, but they still had some yukata that Larg had worn when he was Kimihiro's size. And it wouldn't be too girly, the way Soel, Maru, or Moro's yukatas would be. Yuuko easily dug up a somber yukata that looked as though it was about the size of a small seven year old boy.

Kimihiro was already in the Western-style bath when she returned, soaping up and cleaning his hair. At least, Yuuko thought, she did not have to teach him to keep himself clean.

“Let me know if you need anything,” she said. “I'll leave the clothes here, and tell my children to expect you, all right?”

He nodded beneath his soapy hair. “Thank you,” he said.

“Think nothing of it,” she said, and made her way into the hall. He had left a few damp and dirty footprints, but she didn't mind. She followed the sound of laughter to the kitchen, to find Maru and Moro at the table, slicing vegetables, and the Mokona twins at the stove, making lunch.

“I see four busy people,” she said, and Maru and Moro jumped up, eager to give her a hug.

“Mama's back, Mama's back,” they chanted. She combed her fingers through Moro's hair and tugged on Maru's pigtails. “I'm back,” she said, “and I brought you a new brother, if we can convince him to stay. How does that sound?”

Maru and Moro looked at each other, then back at her. “We'll be big sisters?” they asked in chorus. Yuuko dropped kisses on their foreheads.

“Big sisters,” she said. They still looked uncertain. “If he stays,” she added. “He may not want to.”

“Who wouldn't want to stay with us?” Soel asked. Her white hair was pulled into a braid and a kerchief covered her long white ears. 

“This is the best place, anywhere,” Larg said, glancing at her with one eye. He was dressed like Soel, but his hair was shorter and pulled into a ponytail.

“He hasn't had much experience with good places in a long time, I think,” Yuuko said, and shooed Maru and Moro back to their vegetables. “We'll try to get him to stay here. I think he'll like it, even after the creep gets back.”

“Papa's coming, Papa's coming,” Maru and Moro sang to themselves, quietly. Soel and Larg exchanged glances—a wordless communication that only they understood—and looked at Yuuko.

“Is Clow coming home?” Soel asked.

“Sometime next week,” Yuuko said. “In the meantime, make a little extra for the new boy. I'll bring him out in a moment.”

Larg and Soel returned to making lunch, while Maru and Moro returned to carefully slicing the vegetables. Yuuko found her way back to the main corridor—which had cleaned itself in the time she had been gone—and knocked on the bathroom door.

“I'm dressed,” Kimihiro said, and peeked around the door at her. “You don't mind? About the clothes?”

“No,” she said. “Come on. Lunch is almost ready.”

Kimihiro emerged slowly from the bathroom, his eyes wide behind his glasses. “Thank you for the clothes and the bath,” he said, bowing from the waist. She smiled at him and offered her hand again.

“My children are eager to meet you,” Yuuko said. Kimihiro turned pale, but nodded.

“I'd like to meet them, too,” he said, politely. Yuuko smiled. She didn't have to teach him manners, either; that was always a good thing.

"These are my oldest and youngest children," Yuuko said, as she led Kimihiro into the kitchen. He looked up awkwardly. 

"The two cooking lunch are Soel and Larg," Yuuko said. 

The two teenagers at the stove turned to look at him. They both had weird, liquid eyes, and long hair pulled back from their faces. The girl had long white hair in a plait, and the boy's hair was long and black. The girl stepped forward and bowed. 

“I'm Soel,” she said. Her smile was gentle. He smiled shyly back, after bowing, of course. The boy, Larg, was the next to bow, and Kimihiro echoed it.

“These two little girls are Maru and Moro,” Yuuko said. They bowed, and Kimihiro bowed back. The girls were as odd as the teenagers—Maru had long blue pigtails, fluffy with curls, and Moro had bobbed pink hair. They were a little taller than he was. 

“Larg, Soel, Maru, Moro, this is Watanuki Kimihiro.”

“Pleased to meet you,” he said. They echoed the polite formality, and Yuuko cleared her throat.

"I take it lunch is ready?"

"Yes, Mama," Moro said. Soel and Larg set the food on the table, and Kimihiro tenatively took the seat Yuuko pointed him towards. 

The table was a Western one, long and solid. There were easily three extra chairs, and it seemed as though it could seat even more people. Yuuko, Kimihiro, and her children were clustered around one end, but Kimihiro didn't feel crowded. Soel sat next to him, and ensured that he got plenty on his plate to eat.

Maru and Moro were quiet, and they stared at him when they thought he wasn't looking. He didn't blame them; he thought all of them quite odd, but he didn't dare say so. Yuuko was the first person--the first adult--to understand about the monsters since his parents had died, and he didn't want to risk alienating her or her children.

"Father should be home soon," Soel said, and Kimihiro looked up at her.

"Where's he gone?"

Yuuko snorted and sipped her tea. "He's gone with our other children," she said. "Visiting likely colleges."

"Oh." Kimihiro hadn't given much thought to colleges--those were for older kids. But then, Larg and Soel seemed almost old enough for that.

Larg chuckled. "Akizuki doesn't still think he'll let her go to Lightsbridge, does she?"

"No," Yuuko said, and her gaze was mild, but even Kimihiro caught the slight rebuke in her voice. "Akizuki is in the process of deciding which school would be best, and your father wants to make sure she doesn't get stuck somewhere mediocre."

Kimihiro glanced at Maru and Moro, who were having their own private conversation, and then up at Soel, who smiled at him.

"Lightsbridge isn't a very good school," she said. "They're very narrow-minded there. Akizuki would probably be miserable."

"Oh." He took another bite of lunch. "Where are you and Larg going to go to school? If, um, you don't mind me asking."

"Hmm," Larg said, and Kimihiro glanced up to find him studying Kimihiro closely. "Soel and I are thinking about one of the Lecourt universities, but we still don't know yet. Depends on what Father says about them."

"And Mother," Soel said. Yuuko smiled at them, and at Kimihiro. 

Kimihiro concentrated on his lunch, his face hot and his stomach tight from all the attention. He always felt like this when the social workers brought him to a new family--scared and nervous and wondering when he'd leave them. He concentrated on his food and listened to the girls chatter and Yuuko talk with her older children.

Part of him wanted to stay so badly. No one had believed him about the monsters, and they had made staying with new families frightening and scary. They had really been the reason the social workers kept having to move him from one family to another, whatever anyone else thought.

But how long before the monsters would start in on Yuuko's family? How long before they blew up microwaves and light bulbs and broke windows?

His lunch suddenly wasn't very appetizing anymore.

Yuuko appeared to notice this. She reached out and touched his hand, and smiled when he looked up.

"Are you done?"

"Yes," he said. "I can wash my dish--"

"Maru and Moro are in charge of the plates today," Yuuko said. "Come with me. You look tired."

Kimihiro set down his silverware and followed her into a room off the main hallway. It was big and full of plush furniture, but there weren't a lot of knickknacks around, or very many photographs. There wasn't a TV or a computer that Kimihiro could see, just lots of books in tall bookcases.

"This is the living room, mostly," Yuuko said. She sat down on a couch that was set beneath the large window that looked outside. Kimihiro could still hear the rain, and the daylight was dim. Yuuko patted the couch next to her, and he hurried to sit next to her.

"This is a safe place, Kimihiro-kun," Yuuko said. "Those monsters won't come for you here--and if they try, they will find you better defended than you have ever been."

Kimihiro picked at a stray thread on the yukata. "But isn't that inconvient for you?" He asked. "You have four children already--"

"Eight, actually," Yuuko said, airily. Kimihiro gulped. He'd never lived with such a big family before. He didn't know if he was up to it. If they would truly want to keep him.

"Anyway," she said, and her voice was so serious that he forced himself to look up, into her eyes.

"You came to me for a reason, Kimihiro-kun," she said. "I think...I think that living here, with myself and my family, is what is best for you. And it will be good for all of my children, as well." She reached out and touched his hair, his cheek. "You've been alone far too long," she said. "And you're tired. Why don't you go to sleep?"

His eyelids were heavy, and his body was warm and limp. Sleeping sounded like the best thing. But--

"What about the monsters?"

"They leave us alone," she said, and he felt something soft under his head. "Go to sleep, Kimihiro-kun. Things will work themselves out."

***

Yuuko draped a throw over him as soon as she finished laying him out on the couch. Magic wasn't really fair, but she'd only needed a touch--he was really only seven or so, and his body had been through nearly more than it could handle.

She stood watching him for a moment. Maru and Moro had only recently turned ten; she had thought she was done with having children. Larg and Soel were the eldest, and then had come the whirlwind years between the twins, and she had thought eight was more than enough.

Apparently not.

She pulled off Kimihiro's glasses, folded them up and set them on one of the nearby tables. With two parents and eight children, they needed quite a lot of room in the house to account for them all. She sighed and turned. 

Larg and Soel were in the doorway. They had taken off their aprons to eat lunch, and they'd further removed their kerchiefs. Their long ears, slender and sensitive like a rabbit's, were lain low on both of them.

"Smart decision, you two," she said, and smiled. "I doubt Kimihiro-kun would've taken well to your ears. Not so soon, anyway."

Soel returned the smile, but Larg did not.

"Will social services let him stay?" he asked, and he looked up at Yuuko with worry in his eyes. She sighed again, to herself. It was easy to forget that Larg and Soel were only seventeen.

"I will talk them into it," she said. "I need to find out the circumstances, but I know he came to us for a reason."

"I'll stay with him," Soel said, and Yuuko debated only a moment.

"That's wise," she said. "Keep a kerchief on hand, in case he wakes up. No need to tell him everything until he's certain to stay here."

Soel gave her a wide, impish grin. "One of my one hundred and eight secret techniques," she said, and darted into the living room. Yuuko turned to Larg.

"You're going to call Father," he said, and she nodded. Her children knew her well. "I can go with you."

"Maru and Moro need watching," Yuuko said. "Soel can't keep them in hand while watching over Kimihiro-kun."

Larg grimaced. It wasn't the duty of watching over his siblings; more, it was the fact that she might have a fight on her hands, and he wanted to help her with it. She touched his shoulder.

"Clow isn't unreasonable," she said. "He knows I wouldn't take in a stray child and then just decide to keep it without reason."

Larg shrugged. "He's just been so...."

Yuuko firmly surpressed a smile. "He's been very strict when it comes to schools," she said, and Larg nodded. It was true; Clow was usually the soul of understanding and indulgence, but he had put his foot down on more schools than Yuuko could be bothered to count. He had shot down more schools--and had had more arguments--with Larg and Soel than any of the other children, though Akizuki was challenging their record.

"He'll be annoyed, but nothing I can't handle, Larg," she said gently. "Go watch your sisters."

He relaxed a bit, his ears twitching a little, and nodded to her. She watched him disappear into the kitchen and made her way deeper into the house.

There was a mirror there that she and her husband used when he was outside of their home dimension. Clow didn't like to use it--one of the reasons they had created the Mokonas was for interdimensional travel and communication--but Larg was feeling uncertain and Soel was busy, and there was no help for it.

Yuuko stroked the correct symbols around the wooden frame, imbuing them with small notes of her own power, and then swept her hand over the mirror's surface. Now there was only waiting; one never knew what time it was in other dimensions, even ones they had studied extensively, due to new realities and universe being born and shrinking and blending with sister universes every second. Sometimes faster than that.

This didn't take long; by the light she guessed it was nearly twilight. "You're eager," she said, as she arched an eyebrow at him.

Clow smiled at her, that secret smile. Smug creep. "My dear," he said, "what prompts this? The children and I will be home tomorrow afternoon, if the Roads don't shift."

"I know," Yuuko said, "but something has come up. I don't think you need to hurry your return, but I wanted you to know."

Clow's expression moved from tranquilly glad to see her to confused. "What is it?"

How to say this? Yuuko had thought about it all through lunch, but in the end she could only shrug inwardly and go with the only thing that occured to her.

She gave him a big, slightly tipsy smile. "How do you feel about adopting?"

***

Yuuko had argued Clow into considering adopting a stray child, done divinations to prove her point (which he argued with further, as she was obviously biased), agreed to consult with her fortune-telling friend about it, and had called the local social services to inform them that one Watanuki Kimihiro was sleeping on her couch, (and might she adopt him?) all before supper, which was ideal, since Kimihiro woke up around then.

(Well, the conversation with social services didn't go quite like that. But since she left a message on an answering machine, she didn't have to worry about it until tomorrow morning, so it all worked out.)

Soel had a kerchief covering her ears when he woke, and Larg had donned a similar kerchief in the library. Yuuko began dinner--she really was looking forward to the creep returning, as he enjoyed cooking for multiple people a great deal more than she did--and the Mokonas did their best to herd Maru and Moro into doing their nightly lessons while she cooked. They all quite loved to be underfoot, but they knew better than to chance it when she cooked.

She was distracted from cooking by a scuffling by the kitchen door. Kimihiro stood there, obviously still sleepy, but pulling his borrowed yukata straight and rubbing his eyes. 

"Um, Yuuko-san...can I help?"

She smiled. "Of course, Kimihiro-kun," she said. "Come here."

He walked over, and Yuuko smiled down at him. "What can I do?"

"You can set the table," she said, and patiently pointed him to the silverware and plates and glasses, and pulled down the things he couldn't reach. He took the plates to the table two at a time, and the glasses three at once, and the silverware in two spikey gathered clumps. Yuuko didn't comment on it; he was nervous, that was as obvious as his blue eyes and the glasses he'd replaced. 

"Where did you learn to be so helpful, Kimihiro-kun?" she asked, as she made one of her few fool-proof dishes. Kimihiro shrugged.

"My parents always let me help them," he said, and she nodded. "And then, after...after they died, all the different families I lived with wanted me to help out. I don't mind." He said this last part firmly, almost frantically. She gave him her calmest smile.

"I'm sure you don't mind," she said. "How many families have you lived with, if I may ask?"

He paused and counted on his fingers. She frowned when she saw him need two hands.

"Seven," he said. "Thse Yamatos, the Tanakas, the Hasukawas, the Sakamotos, the Tezukas, the Yamadas, and the Kishyuus." 

"That's quite a lot," Yuuko said mildly. "When did your parents pass away, do you remember?"

"Yeah," he said. "I'd just turned six. They died a few days later. A car accident."

"I'm sorry to hear that," Yuuko said. Kimihiro came to stand beside her at the stove. She looked down at him, and he looked at her with solemn eyes.

"The monsters were mean to all the other families," he said. "It wasn't me. I don't want them following me."

She dropped one hand onto his hair and ruffled it. "I know that," she said. "No one likes creatures like those coming after them. And if you don't take the proper precautions, you end up with monsters overrunning your home." She stirred the pasta once more, and Kimihiro watched her drain it in the sink. 

"So...you really do believe me?"

"Of course." Yuuko slid the noodles back into the pot, and added the pesto sauce. "I can see them too, you know. Unlike you, they know better than to think they can just eat me up." She gave the dinner a few stirs, and glanced down again. Kimihiro was chewing his lip.

"So they really won't come into the house?"

He looked so desolate, and Yuuko thought, for half a moment--which was all she could spare--on what it must have been like, bouncing from foster family to foster family, chased by negative and evil spirits, and undoubtedly thought of as a liar by anyone who could conceivably help.

"They really won't," she said. "Do me a favor, and go call y--the others? Tell them that dinner is ready."

"Okay," he said, and scampered off. Yuuko stirred the pasta a bit more, and sighed. She had very nearly said your sisters and brother, but of course they weren't his siblings.

The threads felt so right, sang so completely in tune, that Yuuko had a hard time believing Kimihiro was not meant to stay with them, be a part of their family. She would consult with Obaasan, of course, because the creep was right--she could have been unintentionally throwing her own divinations. But it was hard to believe anything other than what they showed her, when everything about him felt so right here. 

Kimihiro came back into the kitchen, just behind Maru and Moro, and followed closely by Soel and Larg. They all eagerly pulled out seats, and Yuuko began serving up the meal, with help from the Mokonas.


	6. Downpour

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a story I'd hoped to continue, and who knows--maybe some day I will. Not today, though. And with the benefit of hindsight I can see why it just...wasn't working, really.

Watanuki idly wondered when he was going to get carted off to the crazy house. True, he hadn't been dragged off yet, but he knew it was just a matter of time. He didn't really want to go; he had been there, done that, as the t-shirt said. It was sort of a miracle he'd managed to get out.

Lying for eight consecutive psychiatric sessions, about how he wasn't really able to see spirits that spoke to him, managed to work wonders.

The only problem, he decided, was the fact that they simply would not leave him alone. He was their ambassador, they said. He had to let the humans know how badly their actions were affecting the natural and spiritual world.

It was so bad he couldn't even get a job. Three okonomiyaki places had fired him, all because the resident earth spirits wanted him out there, pounding the pavement and lecturing people who didn't care about things they thought didn't exist.

So. He leaned against a brick wall, sitting and letting his feet cool. No job. No home. No money, which meant no food. 

It wasn't all bad, he supposed. He was their ambassador, so the spirits wouldn't let him starve. They came by several times a day, giving him a curry bun here or an onigiri there. It wasn't much, but it was food. No one ever mugged or assaulted him--at least not for long. There were still large, hungry spirits who thought he would make the perfect entree, and that was what he considered his transportation--running like hell until they lost him or lost interest, one of the two.

His stomach gave an irritable growl. Watanuki could smell ramen, yakisoba, takoyaki, oden, tempura...almost all greasy, unhealthy foods, but right now he could eat anything. 

A rain drop fell on his nose, and Watanuki scrambled to his feet. There was a shop with an awning just down the street, and he made for it like a fly to honey. 

Within moments it was pelting rain, and the passerby were all pulling out umbrellas. Within seconds the busy Tokyo street was awash in color, like a garden blooming. Watanuki would have appreciated it more if he hadn't been soaked by the downpour and dripping beneath a shopkeeper's awning. He looked bad enough, he thought morosely, in old torn jeans and a dirty hoodie, and with his glasses scratched and the hair hanging in his face. Did he have to be soaking wet, too?

"The shower was for your benefit," a tart voice informed him. He glared at the Ame Warashi, who had moved through the crowd with no trouble. 

"I'm ragged enough," he said lowly. If he yelled, the shop owner might decide he was bad for business and make him move. "Did you have to drench me?"

Her mouth pulled into a mou of irritation. "It's called a bath, you stupid child," she retorted.

"A bath is where one gets undressed, then clean, and then into clean clothes," he hissed back. "Now I'm grubby and soaked. It's not an improvement!"

"Whatever," she said. "You haven't talked to anyone in the past hour. Get to it! It's not something you can just ignore, you know!"

"I know that!" he snapped, raising his voice. "But I get tired, and I'm hungry, and since no one will let me hold a job, I kind of don't have the cash to go around getting respectable!" 

"Quit whining," she said, her voice cold and her face unsympathetic. "You've got a job to do."

Watanuki opened his mouth to protest--how could he convince anyone of anything, when he was homeless and talking crazy?--and she shoved a damp curry bun into it.

"There," she said. "Now I can tell that girl you're not going hungry."

"Mmmph!" Watanuki said, half enraged and half devoted to the (processed, mass produced, rather tasteless but still quite delicious) curry bun.

***

Rain spattered the streets and drenched everything. The light was slowly dimming, and Watanuki watched it rain from his sheltered doorstop behind a stationary shop. 

An earth spirit--something like a puppy and a mudball--trundled down the alley. The street to Watanuki's left was full of people walking as swiftly as the puddles and crowds would let them, umbrellas sheilding them from the wet and each other's faces. Watanuki paid them only a little attention; as long as he was quiet and acted normal, the shop owner would never know he was using their doorway. When the rain slacked off he would find somewhere else to go for the night.

He was cold, but if he stayed in one spot against the brick and concrete, it would gradually go away. That was what he kept telling himself, anyway. The wet intesified the cold, made it creep into his bones and blood. His fingers ached with it. 

The earth spirit stopped and sniffed at Watanuki. Watanuki stared at it, and gave it a smile that felt stretched and worn.

"I'll get up in a bit," he said. "When it's not pouring."

The earth spirit sniffed at him again and moved along, and Watanuki turned his eyes back to the rain sheeting off the roof of the building opposite. It was flowing into well-worn cracks and rivulets ground into the asphalt of the alley, and flowing toward the street. A puddle that dreamed of being a river.

Streetlights began lighting up the twilight, and to Watanuki they had halos around them. There was probably some scientific reason for it, rather than something supernatural, but he'd always been so distracted in class he couldn't honestly remember what it was. Reflections, he thought. 

"Feeling sorry for yourself?" a strident voice asked, and he looked up at the chilly eyes of the Ame Warashi.

"I've got good reason," he said, and glared at her--though not too hard, since that would get him a whack from her undoubtably damp umbrella.

"Humans," she said, her voice dripping with distain. "That child wanted to come out here and tell you this herself, but I managed to convince her not to--do you realize how sick she could get, if she keeps coming to an impure place like this?"

"I don't want her to get sick," he said. He didn't. The Zashiki Warashi was sweet, and he liked her well enough. And he didn't think he could make it to whereever she lived for a sickbed visit.

"There's a homeless shelter not far from here," the Ame Warashi said, and Watanuki thought she sounded a little less hostile than usual. "You could go there, get some hot soup. Maybe spend the night dry and warm."

Watanuki swallowed. "The last time I slept in a shelter my coat was stolen, and someone nearly stole my shoes. The shelter workers are too busy to keep everyone safe. And the spirits there...." He shuddered and folded his arms across his chest. "Tell her thank you for me. And thank you for telling me. But I'll be okay."

The Ame Warashi narrowed her eyes at him. "You're being stupid," she said. He shrugged. He'd find a place to sleep--the trains tended to run late, and sometimes the guards didn't mind someone sleeping on a bench, as long as they were gone by the morning rush.

The Ame Warashi huffed again. "Fine," she said. "I'll tell her what you said. But if she cries, her karasu tengu will not be happy with you."

Watanuki looked away from her. He could hardly help that; it was easy for the spirits to tell him what he needed to do, what he was supposed to do--it was so easy for them. They could vanish into another world, and go from place to place without having to worry about police or angry shop owners or other hungry people or being cold. 

He could feel the anger rising, and he forced it down. Of all the spirits that badgered him, the Ame Warashi had shown him a lot of kindness, in her own odd way, and she had been the one to consistantly bring him food if he couldn't find any himself. She could also be one of the more demanding spirits, but he couldn't get angry at her for that.

"I'll find somewhere," he said, and gave her a weak smile. She rolled her eyes.

"Not much I can do otherwise," she said. "But it's a full moon tonight. You might want to chance that shelter."

He nodded, and she dissapated into raindrops. The rain began to slow, and before very long it stopped. Watanuki slowly climbed to his feet and shoved his hands further into the pockets of his hoodie. 

Under a sky that reflected Tokyo's bright lights and the orange glow of street lamps he walked, half-aiming for the shelter, and half-following the earth spirit, which had found some gritty mud to wade in. The streets were full of people, crushed with them even in this weather, and Watanuki stepped into the flow, walking, walking, walking.

***


	7. Failed Fusion Attempt--xxxHolic and the Dresden Files

You know, it isn't easy being a wizard in a place like Hitsuzen City.

I mean, you'd think it would be--but you'd be very, very wrong.

Kunogi called me in on a case. I almost didn't go, but Mugetsu needs food. Me, I'm skinny and I can hardly taste my own cooking anyway, but a kudakitsune? Needs lots of food. Especially when he's big and has a hankering for fried tofu.

Anyway. I made my way downtown, where Kunogi and her partner were waiting.

Kunogi is one of the cutest women you will ever see. She's shorter than me, and she has this lovely bright smile. Lots of people, on their first impression, think she's a bit of an airhead, but I know better.

The fact that she can judo-flip me before I can blink helps out with remembering just how capable she is.


	8. In The Beginning, God Said "Let There Be Lips!"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This came out as a weird, strange AU where Watanuki and Yuuko are strange siblings living in a city that has live reproductions of the RHPS. So count that as your warnings, virgins.
> 
> This was supposed to be longer, but it never attained full fic status.

Title: In the Beginning, God said "Let There Be Lips!"  
Fandom: xxxHolic/RHPS  
Pairing: working on it; gen for right now  
Rating: PG-13 (it's still got Rocky Horror in it, yo)  
Disclaimer: Not my characters  
Warnings: It's not necessary to know the plot or characters of Rocky Horror, but it would probably clear things up. Also, this is majorly Alternate Universe--all human, little to no spirits/magic/etc. Also, minor crossover CLAMP characters from things like Legal Drug, Tsubasa, CCS, Suki Dakara Suki.

This is based off live performances of Rocky Horror. The title's temporary, but I'm very tempted to either call it "Any Virgins In This Theater" or dig out my Audience Par-ti-ci-PATION album and comb it for quotes. This means lots of raunchy humor and sexual jokes. 

Yuuko was _doing_ it again. Kimihiro tried not to notice, but it was difficult when his extremely well-endowed older sister was leaning on him.

"What is it, Oneesan?"

Yuuko pouted. "How many times do I have to tell you? It's just Yuuko." She wrapped her arms around him in a hug. "You study too much, Kimihiro! I need to take you out and get you to experience life!" She waved an arm around gleefully. "Think of all the shining things out there you're missing!"

Kimihiro hunched closer to his books. "I'm fine, _Oneesan._ I have to study."

Yuuko gracefully flopped next to him. She was dressed outrageously as always--long strings of beads, a large ornate silver cross dangling from a thick choker, black leather pants and a corset embroidered with dark violet butterflies and an overblouse of silk and black lace. Her coat and boots were in the entryway. Kimihiro wasn't fazed; he'd grown up with Yuuko wearing revealing outfits, and it was nothing new to him.

"Kimihiro," Yuuko said, and her tone was the one he hated most--the serious one, the one she only pulled out when she couldn't convey what she wanted to say with tipsy jokes, sly remarks or teasing, utterly inappropriate innuendoes. "Kimihiro, I'm worried about you."

"There's nothing to worry about," he protested. His chemistry textbook was starting to make _no_ sense again, but that was probably his sister's fault.

"You're studying so much, and you're not doing anything someone your age should be doing," she said, and Kimihiro glared at her.

"I have to pass my classes, Oneesan! I can't goof off and skate through like--like--"

"I never skated through," Yuuko said firmly. "I studied. And then I realized that university couldn't teach me what I wanted to know, Kimihiro. That's my path, and I don't expect you to follow it." She laid a hand on his arm and squeezed. "But you're studying all the time, and you're putting such pressure on yourself! I don't expect you to party all the time or slack off, but I don't want you to wear yourself into nothing, either!"

"I _have_ to pass this class, neesan! If I don't everything I've been doing--it all falls apart! And you want me to go 'experience life'? I am! I'm doing my best--"

A bang resounded from the nearest wall, and Kimihiro clearly heard his neighbor yelling at him to keep it down. Yuuko, when he glanced back at her, had a pinched look to her mouth.

"Wonder how they'd take it if I faked the loudest orgasm I could?" she asked conversationally, and Kimihiro rested his head on his open textbook with a groan. Yuuko ran her nails through his hair, scratching lightly at his scalp.

"How important is this?" she asked quietly. "Do you have an upcoming test, or a vital assignment?"

Kimihiro looked up and pulled off his glasses. "No. I mean, I need to understand the material, but I don't have any more assignments till next week."

She pinched him and gave him a knowing look. "So you're pushing yourself to memorize stuff you already know?" 

Kimihiro felt his face heat up. "I need to know it," he said. Yuuko sighed.

"Come out with me and my friends this weekend," she said. "We're going to a show. It'll be fun, and you can unwind for a while. Then you can come back here, crash for a while, get up and study some more, okay? It's just one night." She tweaked his ear. "I worry. You don't have many friends, and you never go out."

Kimihiro sighed. "Not everyone has to go out and party all the time," he complained. Yuuko rolled her eyes. 

"I'm not saying you should. You never do anything, Kimihiro--you don't even go to the events on campus, do you? I know you love cooking, but do you even go to the festivals where there's food?" She could read him like a book--a lifetime of practice coming to her aid--and shook her head. "I'd be happy if you just did that. Come on, come out with me. For your big sister."

He rolled his eyes. The truth was, he was forgetting concepts he'd had down only days ago, and that was a sign of studying entirely too much. His back hurt from hunching over his textbooks and...well. He wouldn't ever admit anything to Yuuko, but she was right. He found it hard to make friends, and he was lonely.

"All right," he said, with bad grace. "Where will we be going?"

Yuuko acquired her usual shark's grin, and Kimihiro wondered what he'd gotten himself into. "Have you ever seen a film called _The Rocky Horror Picture Show_?"

***

Kimihiro acknowledged to himself, not for the first time, that his elder sister was a freak.

Of course, her friends weren't a whole lot better.

Dinner had been good--Yuuko had dressed normally and hauled Kimihiro out to a restaurant that served more than dollar ramen bowls, and they had a fairly normal dinner. (Well, as normal as they ever got, which Kimihiro had to say wasn't much, in the way of things.) Then they'd gone back to Yuuko's place, and she'd gotten into her costume and had tried to dress him up, too.

Well, she'd succeeded. But he'd refused to wear the teddy, the fishnets, or the hotpants, so she'd decided on a waistcoat and top hat. Kimihiro felt ridiculous riding the trains, until they actually got to the theater. 

There was a line outside. Most of the people were dressed in shirts and jeans, or skirts; others were dressed in outfits that were decidedly...more outlandish. Yuuko's French maid costume was one of the more conservative ones, even given the short skirt, thigh-high fishnets and plunging neckline.

"Yuuko-chan!" A man called from the middle of the line. He was dressed normally enough, and he was obviously happy to see Yuuko.

"We have reservations," Yuuko said, as she dragged Kimihiro along with her. "Kakei! Where's your friend?"

The man sighed. "Ah, well, Kazahaya's very shy, you know! He didn't think his friend's play was going to be like this." Kakei shook his head, then eyed Yuuko up and down. "You're conservative this time."

Yuuko slung an arm around Kimihiro's shoulders. "I brought my little brother," she said. Kimihiro tried and failed to convince himself that she didn't sound proud. "I had to dress a little more modestly."

Kakei smiled even as Kimihiro rolled his eyes.

Kakei leaned against the wall and nodded to his feet. "I brought a few beers," he said. "You aren't driving?"

"Taking the train," Yuuko said, as she gleefully pounced on the alcohol. "I thought they didn't encourage this?"

"They don't, really," Kakei said, with a sly smile. Kimihiro was beginning to suspect one of them had given the other lessons. "But Rikuo is in the production, and Saiga did a lot of the custom costuming, so they'll overlook it if I bring only a couple of beers."

"Here, Kimihiro, try some," Yuuko said. Kimihiro glared at her, and she smiled at him.

"We both had more than enough to keep our livers intact, Kimihiro," she said. He sighed and tipped the bottle to his lips. The beer was sharp and bitter, but there was a malty undercurrent that wasn't bad, once he got past the burn of the alcohol.

"Corrupting the young, Yuuko-chan!" Kakei said, shaking his head. Yuuko pulled a clove cigarette out of her purse and smiled at Kakei as she lit it.

"He's determined to be a good boy," she said. "Someone has to make sure he lives a little, you know?"

"How generous!"

Kimihiro took another sip and handed Yuuko the bottle. "I'm good," he said. She smiled at him, that wierdly proud smile, and took a big swig of the beer.

"Mah, not as good as some of my sake," she said. "But it's a good buzz."

"So mean, Yuuko-chan," Kakei said, but it was said with a laugh, and Yuuko only smirked. Kimihiro sat on the curb and watched the people in line. Most were laughing and a few were smoking cigarettes. 

"Someone will sit on you if you stay there," Yuuko said, and Kimihiro stood up. He tried to make it look dignified, rather than a flailing scramble, but from Yuuko's expression he probably failed.

"Hey, Yuuko-chan, your little brother's so cute," Kakei said. He had a sly look on his face that made Kimihiro think of snakes. Yuuko blew smoke into his face.

"You can look, but don't touch," she said. "You've got Saiga, he's enough to make any man happy, don't you think? Besides," she said, as she stroked Kimihiro's cheek, "he's meant for someone else."

Kakei made some flirtatious response that Kimihiro couldn't hear. The doors had opened, and people were beginning to walk up and down the line. If Kimihiro were the type to be scandalized--which he was, but years of proximity to Yuuko and her habits of thought and dress had weeded it all out--he probably would have gone home or blushed so scarlet the actors wouldn't have had to even speak to him to single him out. As it was, he kept his face blank and cool while the cast members approached.

The man in the lead was dressed the way Yuuko had wanted to dress him--fishnet stockings, garter belt, a corset, and more eyeshadow than Kimihiro had ever suspected existed. He bypassed their group, but the young woman in the glittering gold-sequined coat and top hat did not. 

"Any virgins?" she asked kindly, and Yuuko stubbed her cigarette out even as she slung an arm over Kimihiro's shoulders.

"Right here!" she said gleefully, and Kimihiro struggled to maintain a cool exterior. His sister could be so _embarrassing._

She also knew him better than anyone else on the planet.

"Hmm," the woman said. She looked him up and down. "I don't buy it. What do we call Brad?"

Kimihiro blinked. "Uh...Brad?"

This was apparently the wrong answer. The woman giggled and gave him a smile, then leaned forward and applied a tube of lipstick to his cheek. 

"Have fun!" she said, and continued on down the line. Kimihiro touched his cheek, but Yuuko smacked his hand away.

"Don't smudge it," she said. Kimihiro glared at her.

"What is it, anyway?"

"It's a V, you silly boy," Yuuko said. Further down the line was the sound of someone sputtering and making a racket. Kakei chuckled.

"So little Kazahaya-kun didn't go home after all," he said. "Well, he's got to lose it sometime, right?"

Yuuko sniffed. "He's been sheltered," she said in his ear. "You handled yourself very well, Kimi-chan."

"Don't call me that," Kimihiro said automatically. Then he thought again--Yuuko was free with teasing and with worry, but more stingy with honest praise. "Thanks." She squeezed his shoulders.


	9. Psychic AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little fic that is unfinished and never really wanted to go anywhere. Fairly sure I haven't posted it under the collected ficlets; I think I tried to save that for completed fics, even if they weren't going to go any further.

Kimihiro was what a lot of people considered to be psychic. Mostly he simply saw and could speak to spirits, but that was what he told the people who sought out his services.

Seeing the state of peoples' souls is a rather disconcerting idea, and he knew most of his patrons would like the idea of someone seeing their soul--seeing them for what they truly were--a very good reason to seek answers elsewhere. He could see a number of ways that fate--or hitsuzen, if you wanted to believe Yuuko-san--tied people together, threads and strings and resonating chimes that only a few could see and hear. He often offered his services to those looking to make a good arranged marriage, to see if the marriage would be for the good of both parties or ill.

That was, in fact, what he was going to do today. He tidied the little house, sweeping and dusting the corners. The elderly woman he lived with was going out to the market, and he would be on his own for this particular reading. He did not see things quite the way she did, so he would not be the one to inherit her sand-plate; but she did not seem terribly concerned about it, and he focused on doing what he could.

He had just finished folding and putting away his apron and kerchief, and finishing the tea, when there was a knock on the frame of the front door. It was a nice, warm spring day, and he wanted to air the house out.

"Ah," he said. "Welcome. Please come in." 

The party was small--just a woman and her son. Kimihiro ducked back into the kitchen before he could get too much of a glimpse of them. His powers were mostly under control, but the problem with power of any kind was that it was always only _mostly_ under control; it was the sort of thing that demanded freedom, no matter the form it took. Kimihiro was one of those lucky, lucky people who sometimes had visions strike. It was rarely pleasant.

"Please take a seat," he called from the kitchen. He placed the last of the things he would need on the tea tray and carried it to the main living room. His clients had already sat themselves at the kotatsu.

"I'm Doumeki Keiko," the woman said, and gave a bow from where she sat. "This is my son, Shizuka."

"Sorry to barge in," the boy said, but his voice was so flat and nonchalant that Kimihiro felt like glaring at him. But that would be a bad idea.

"It's no trouble," he said instead. "How do you like your tea?"

"Milk, no sugar," Keiko said. Kimihiro whipped up a cup and handed it to her, careful to avoid her fingers. Touch had odd effects on him.

"Black," the boy said, and Kimihiro poured a cup of plain black tea. He made up his own cup last and sat back, his eyes half lowered.

"What can I do for you?"

"You're the young man Kunogi-san recommended to us," Keiko said. "My husband is wondering when Shizuka will find a nice girl to settle down with."

Kimihiro frowned at his tea. "That question might be beyond my abilities," he said at last. "I see certain things, but the future is rarely one of them."

"I see," Keiko said slowly. "What can you do, precisely, Watanuki-san?"

"See the lines of fate," he said, and he kept his voice low and gentle. "They aren't always there, but it's something I can see on a fairly consistant basis."

The boy snorted. Kimihiro felt the corners of his mouth tighten, in sheer irritation. Probably a spoiled boy, who felt his mother was dragging him to a charletan. Well, that didn't matter to Kimihiro's sight; it never did.

"If you have a picture of a girl you have in mind," he said, "I might be of more assistance. Or a personal item, such as a watch or a favorite brooch."

"Kunogi-san said you were very clear about her daughter," Keiko murmured. Kimihiro inclined his head. Kunogi Himawari had been a lovely girl with a very pretty smile, but she radiated bad luck the way the sun shone down on a summer day. He still wrote her letters, though; she was quite lonely.

"We had a few girls in mind, but no formal omiai have been set up," Keiko said, and rummaged in her purse. Shizuka shifted, and Kimihiro had to surpress a smirk. Somehow he thought the boy probably hadn't known that.

"Here you are," Keiko said, and gave him a small stack of photographs. "Some of them are a little old for Shizuka, but we were concerned with his happiness above all."

Which explained why she was here, really. Kimihiro carefully took the photographs and looked at them carefully.

All of the girls were very pretty. But he felt nothing from them to the irritating boy sitting across the kotatsu from him. When he looked at the girl with long, straight hair, her eyes and face closed in a polite mask, he got a feeling of a Kansai accent and a boy from a mountain temple--certainly not the boy in front of him. Another girl prompted the feeling of animals, dogs and cats, and open wild spaces; again, not the boy in front of him.

The last girl came the closest, and that was only because the sense he had was a very _Tokyo_ kind of sense; especially the rich suburbs. Definitely not the boy from a family temple in front of him.


	10. Nightclub AU, xxxHolic

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this a long, long time ago, before gender identity and the conversations around it really sank in and began to mean something to me. It's not a transphobic piece of writing--it didn't get that far--and I don't think it would have been intentionally transphobic, but I think it's just as well this fic petered out. I'm not sure I had anything worth saying with it at the time besides "Doumeki is hot in pretty much anything, and also doesn't care about your gender performance," but even that second bit was probably less conscious than it needed to be.

Watanuki looked around him warily. He hadn't meant to wander so far from the main roads, but the butterfly he was following was insistant that the one he sought was this way. It floated past bars, closed stores, clubs, and other sorts of businesses, their lights neon and aggressive in the dim twilight.

At last the butterfly--formed from a blue patterned kerchief--hovered in front of a door, which was a little darker and quieter than its neighbors. It collapsed back into his hands as soon as he drew near, and Watanuki looked at the building. 

It was a crumbling brick building, still standing despite Japan's frequent earthquakes. The low sound of saxophones and deep bass notes slid out from the door, sidling through the night. Watanuki took a deep breath of city night air, and opened the door.

It was a club, clustered with tables and a bar along one side of the room. A man was on stage, playing the saxophone, and another stood, strumming a double bass. The crowd was a mix of people, from teenagers with dyed hair to salarymen still in their business suits. Watanuki looked around slowly, trusting on that subtle, sixth sense to lead him to the person he sought. 

After a moment he stepped down into the ground floor and began weaving among tables. At last he stopped near the front, where a woman sat alone at a table, her legs elegantly crossed beneath a long, silky black skirt. Her hair was dark and curled around her shoulders. Her blouse was a dark burgundy, almost black in the low light. She wore a silk choker, fastened with a garnet broach, and a pair of onyx and garnet earrings. Watanuki made a noise, and the woman's golden eyes slid to look at him.

Gold eyes, with a touch of eyeshadow. A little bit of lipstick, a little bit of blush; but none of it really mattered to Watanuki. He recognized those eyes.

"Oh," Doumeki said, as though he was still wearing a standard school uniform. "It's you."

A part of Watanuki's mind--the part that was still a child in school--could only regard Doumeki with disbelief. The rest of him, the parts that had matured and learned since taking over the shop, was unsurprised.

"May I sit?" he asked softly, and Doumeki nodded. Watanuki turned to face the musicians, but part of his attention stayed on Doumeki, noticing a number of little things. Doumeki had always been masculine, but he passed for a woman astonishingly well. His jaw wasn't square, and the choker hid the slight bob of an Adam's apple. He wore enough make-up to make it obvious he was doing so, and no more. The swell of breasts beneath his shirt belonged to a fake pair, but they were well-proportioned to the rest of his body.

"Were you looking for me?" Doumeki asked after a long stretch of jazz and intermingled silence. Watanuki looked at him and gave him a little half-smile.

"I was."

Doumeki took a small sip from the sake glass in front of him. "Any particular reason?"


	11. xxxHolic Rou ficbit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Legit, it's like 2 paragraphs.

Watanuki had been closed off ever since Yuuko died--he didn't fight or bicker or complain the way he used to, and Shizuka wasn't quite certain what to do with this new person who inhabited his friend's skin. He knew from the passing of his grandfather and father that grief was never easy, and it doesn't dissapate with a sunrise; but then, he was on one side of that wall, and now he was on the other, and helpless to break it down. And he doesn't know if Watanuki would even want him to do so.

But he went to the shop every day, occasionally bringing news from Kunogi, and watched Watanuki stay still, among the frenzied energy of Mokona and the twins. Watanuki gave him small, strained smiles and learned to smoke and how to hold his liquor, and once or twice Shizuka had arrived to find Watanuki altering Yuuko's old robes and clothing to fit a still-tall, still-slender, but not quite so feminine frame. Shizuka thought briefly of teasing him about wearing girls' clothes, and decided against it. Maybe in another few months, he'd thought.


End file.
